More Important
by BoundLight
Summary: AU. Dean and John are the best hunters out there, but when John finds out Dean is gay, its up to Castiel to save him. Dean/Cas
1. Chapter 1

When Dean turned eighteen he dropped out of high school at his father's insistence. After all, you didn't need a diploma to do their kind of work.

Dean had already been hunting for years, but now his father felt it was time to drop the pretense of being a normal person and having a normal life.

It broke Sam's heart to see his brother go, but Dean assured him that they would talk everyday, and that if Sam ever needed _anything_ he would come home immediately, because nothing was more important than family.

Dean always traveled with his father, and together they were unstoppable.

After every hunt they would find a bar to celebrate. Dean was too young to drink, but he quickly discovered that flirting with the waitress always took care of that problem.

They had just finished exorcising a particular violent spirit. Dean had a deep cut above his eye, and John had a few bruised ribs, but they had both had worse, and were in high spirits.

"What do you think, Dean? Shots?"

"Bring it on, old man."

"I'm the one who _taught_ you to drink, boy. You think you can beat me?"

With matching grins they lined their shots up, and started knocking them down.

Six rounds later, they were both feeling rather tipsy. Dean stood up. "I gotta go to the back. Be right back."

John nodded, and signaled the bartender for another drink. He watched as Dean made his way through the crowded bar until he disappeared from sight, and then turned his attention to the other patrons.

After fifteen minutes John began to feel a bit worried. As if on cue, Dean appeared, a huge smile covering his face.

"Hey, dad. So, uh, I'm getting a different room tonight."

John laughed. "Found some young thing, eh? Atta boy. Remember we're heading out early tomorrow." John watched his boy walk away. He tried to get a glance of the girl Dean had chosen this time, but the bar was too crowded, and soon his son was gone.

John was proud. His son always managed to find some beautiful woman to bring back. It was part of the hunter lifestyle, and Dean had it down perfectly.

The next morning John rose with the sun, and packed the car quickly. He checked his watch. Dean should have been there five minutes ago.

He sighed. Dean never _could_ get up without someone dropping water on him. Casually he walked to the front office. There was a homely girl manning the desk, and with a few choice words, he had her blushing and offering him the key.

After looking around for a few minutes he managed to find the right door. It was odd, usually Dean would get a room close to him, but this time it was almost at the end of the complex.

Quietly he opened the door.

Dean's head was the only thing visible.

A lump shifted, and John saw a body was tightly wrapped around his son. John rolled his eyes, a grin spreading across his face at catching his son in such a vulnerable state. He put aside his original plan and decided to wake Dean up in a more civilized manor.

"Dean?"

They shifted.

"Dean?"

There was a sigh as the girl woke up. Of course Dean would sleep through that. He'd sleep through a _bomb_ given half a chance. The beds other occupant started to sit up. The blankets slid back and…

That wasn't a girl.

"Dean!"

Dean leapt up, and leveled a pistol at his fathers head. "Dad?" He looked down and noticed his state of undress. He looked at the bed. "Oh. Fuck."

"You want to explain this to me?"

Dean lowered his gun, looking at the confused young man clutching the sheets tightly. He smiled reassuringly and murmured, "Maybe you should go, David."

"David? You're telling me that my son is a fucking _faggot_?"

"Dad it's not like –"

"Really? Cause it sure as _hell_ looks like my _son_ was in bed with a fucking _guy_."

"Yeah, dad, but –"

Before he could finish, John was in front of him. He struck his son as hard as he could. He'd hit Dean before, usually when he was drunk, but it was nothing like this.

Dean went down hard, his vision blacked out, and his ears started to ring loudly. As the world came back, he watched his father walk to the door. Slowly he pushed himself to his knees. John turned to look at him. "You are no son of mine." He slammed the door.

Dean sat back and wiped the blood from his lips. This was why he hadn't told his father. He knew this would be his reaction. He sighed and dropped his head into his hands. He'd actually been more worried about how Sammy would take it, but his genius of a little brother figured it out a long time ago. When Sam confronted him and then hugged him… Dean had never felt so relieved, so happy, so accepted. It had been the best night of his life.

He stood up and fished his cell phone out of his pants. He took a deep breath as the phone dialed. "Sam? Yeah it's – No, I'm – Sammy, I'm _fine_."

Sam held his phone tightly. He could hear the sadness in Dean's voice. No matter how much Dean tried to hide things from him, he could always figure it out. "What are you going to do, Dean?"

"I…I don't –"

"Call Bobby."

"What?"

"Dean."

Dean scowled at the floral wallpaper. "I don't want to lose _everyone_ in my life today, Sam."

"Do it, Dean. What have you got to lose? You know _dad's_ going to tell him. He needs someone to rant to."

Dean bit his lip. He was strong. He was brave. He was the best damn hunter out there. But this… he felt the dread in his heart. He felt alone. Why had he been so stupid? Last night he'd been walking to the back of the bar when he saw the most gorgeous… He'd almost died at the hunt, and he just needed to feel alive, and when David had agreed… And now there was all this fucking shit. He closed his eyes and just tried to breath. He unclenched his fist.

"Sammy."

"I know Dean. Do you want me to come find you?"

"No! Sam, no. You're doing so well in school. I just know Stanford's going to say yes."

"Dean, you're more important to me than that."

"Sam, I'll be fine."

"Then prove it, Dean! Call Bobby!"

"Alright, alright. Fine. I'll call him."

"Promise me, Dean."

"…I promise."

Dean hung up and stared at his phone. For a moment he contemplated chucking it at the wall as hard as was humanly possible. He settled cradling it dejectedly. After about five minutes he dialed. Bobby picked up on the second ring.

"I was wonderin' when you were going to call me, boy."

"Hi Bobby."

"I got a call from your dad."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I figured. Well, bye."

"What the hell are you thinking, boy? Don't you hang up on me."

"Oh. Sorry, Bobby."

"Get your ass down here, Dean."

"What?"

"I've got a spare bedroom that you're welcome to, and you know Sam'll sleep better knowing you've got somewhere to go."

"Bobby… don't you care that…"

"Dean, I've known you your whole life; you're family and ain't nothing gonna' change that. Now either you get down here or I'll hunt you down and bring you back myself."

Dean closed his eyes, relief flooding through him. "Thanks, Bobby."

"Yeah, whatever ya idjit. Now get off the phone and start driving."

Dean gathered up the few things he had brought with him to the room. It wasn't much. All he had was a set of clothes and a gun. Despite himself, Dean couldn't keep the smile off his face.

The car was gone, of course it was gone, what did he expect? But he'd learned the life of a hunter well, and quickly hotwired an inconspicuous vehicle and set off. As he drove he called Sam to let him know where he was going, and by nightfall he was pulling into the old scrap yard. Bobby stood silhouetted in the doorway.

Dean parked. Even though they'd already spoken, he could not stop the apprehension that rose in his chest. He stood by his car, waiting for Bobby to make the first move.

Bobby did not hesitate. He was down the steps in one striding bound, and was beside Dean in three. He gripped the young hunter by the shoulders, and then brought him forward into a hug. Just as quickly he stepped back.

"What are you waitin' for, son? Let's get you inside."

The room Dean now called his own was actually larger than his old one. It was dominated by a large bed covered with an old quilt. To one side was an old wardrobe mounted with a dusty mirror. A window looked out over rusting heaps of cars.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Sorry it isn't much, son."

"No, Bobby. It's perfect."

"So, what are you going to do now?"

Dean turned, a little confused. "What do you mean?"

"Are you going to get your GED? Try to go to college?"

"Nah, it's too late for that. Besides." He winked. "I was never much good at it. Sammy's the educated one. I thought I could just work on cars."

Bobby grinned. "Well, you're welcome to any in the yard. You fix it up, it's yours."

Dean ducked his head. "I also thought maybe I'd keep hunting."

Bobby considered this. A hunter himself, he knew the pull the lifestyle had. "Alright, but I tell you what, you need call me every night so I know you're safe, and," He looked at Dean sarcastically. "You need to _visit_ every now and then, you understand me?"

Dean grinned. "Oh Bobby, are you _worrying_ about me?"

Bobby was not amused. "Some people actually care about you, boy, and you need to give us peace of mind. I know you call Sam every night. One more phone call won't hurt you."

Dean sobered instantly. "Of course I'll call, Bobby."

"Good. Now get your scrawny ass downstairs. I made pasta."

* * *

I promise Cas'll show up soon. He's in the next chapter actually.

This is my first time writing an AU, so tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Dean headed out the next day.

He avoided places where he knew hunters found solace. His dad had a big mouth, and if he was angry, it would only get bigger. Dean could fight any mother fucker out there who wanted a piece of him, but drawing attention to himself would only make it worse.

He started buying his own liquor and just drinking alone in his room after a hunt. Sometimes, well, _most_ times if he was honest, he would go and find a little company to spend the night with.

But Dean was only half right.

John was telling any hunter who would listen to his drunk ramblings about his faggot son who was sick and _wrong_. He would tell them how worthless that made Dean. He would tell them how thankful he was that _Sam_ at least wasn't infected.

Most of the hunters he told listened patiently and drank their drinks. Because everyone knew. Everyone knew Dean was the best hunter there was. If you needed a job done, you found Dean. Many of them heard stories about him. They heard about jobs that had sounded impossible, but he managed to pull it off. They'd heard about families who should have died, but who had been saved. They heard, and they felt nothing but pride. Secretly most hunters wanted to buy Dean a beer, but he never came to the Roadhouse, and he always worked alone.

John hated that.

Dean was gone for three weeks before he returned to Bobby's. True to his word, he'd called Bobby every day to update him on where he was and what he'd been doing.

Dean sat down in the living room with a glass of scotch. Bobby joined him. The older man cleared his throat. "Sam called me today."

Dean nodded, ice cubes in his glass clicking.

"He wants to come live here."

Dean choked. "No!"

"Come on, son. He misses you."

"He needs to go to college!"

"I don't see why he can't."

"But – he –"

"You miss him too."

"Yeah, but –"

"I told him he could."

Sam walked into the room. "Hey, Dean."

Dean was up in an instant, pulling Sam into his arms.

Sam pushed away and smiled widely. "I got accepted to Stanford."

Bobby stepped forward. "He's going off to school in the fall. I thought he could crash here for a few months till then."

"What's dad going to say?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Like he'd care. He's never home anyway. Besides." He smiled at Bobby. "Bobby's teaching me how to fix up old cars."

Dean nodded. "I could give you a few pointers too."

"Tomorrow?"

Dean and Bobby laughed. "Yeah, okay."

In the morning Sam wandered around the rusted husks of cars, and eventually picked a black Cheverly Silverado. They wheeled the truck into the garage, and got started. Dean taught him how to rebuild a transmission, and Bobby taught him how to change a tire.

As the afternoon wore on, the truck started to look less like a pile of junk, and more like something drivable.

Sam wiped sweat from his brow. "Let's take a break."

Bobby walked out to the fridge and when he came back he passed out the beers.

Bobby's phone rang. He looked at the screen and with a sigh he walked back out into the sun.

Sam looked at Dean. "So what car did you pick?"

Dean grinned. "A '67 Chevy Impala."

"No way!"

"She's a beauty. Come on."

They walked out across the yard. Back a little way they came across the black car. She shined in the light.

Sam shook his head. "Man, Dean. You really fixed her up well." He leaned in the front window and pulled his head out frowning at Dean. "A cassette player? Really? Why not put an iPod jack in there, or at _least_ a CD player. I mean, come on. It's the twenty-first century."

Dean stared at Sam as though he'd grown a second head, then immediately put himself between his brother and the car. "Don't come any closer, Sam." He turned back to the car, running his hands over her black finish. "Shh, shh baby. He didn't mean it. It's okay, I won't let him brutalize you with his deranged musical ideas."

"Jesus, Dean. Did you fall on your head as a child?"

"Shut up, bitch!" Dean picked a rag covered in polish and threw it at Sam's face. Sam caught it deftly and began chasing Dean around the cars. Dean hid behind an old Ford and waited for Sam to run past. He leapt out surprising Sam and knocking him to the ground; he began tickling his brother mercilessly. Sam fought back, and they ended up rolling around in the dirt together, getting covered in dust and oil. They finally collapsed in a breathless heap, gasping for air.

Gradually Dean stood up. He offered Sam a hand and together they made their way back to the garage.

Dean picked up a tool as Sam popped the hood, and they got back to work.

The sun was beginning to set as Bobby walked into the garage. He looked nervous. "Okay boys, it's time to go."

Dean looked at Sam, and then back. "Go?"

"Yeah, John stopped by the house and found out Sam is gone, and now he's coming here. You need to go, Dean."

Sam's eyes widened. "I'm so sorry, guys."

Dean placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Sam. He would have found us eventually anyway."

Bobby nodded. "You're always welcome here, both of you, but John's drunk, and I don't want you to get hurt, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "I'm not leaving."

"Boy, you're not hearing me, you need to _go_ _now_. Come back in a few hours. I'll try to make sure Sam stays, but he can't find you here."

"Bobby, I appreciate your concern, but I'm not running from him."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "Fine, don't run. Go lock yourself in the panic room downstairs."

"No. It's time for me to face him."

They stood in silence. In the distance they heard a truck growl, and the crunch of gravel in the driveway.

"Oh, fuck it ya damned idjit. You want to stay? Fine. But if you die, you better not haunt my old ass." Muttering curses and oaths in various languages, Bobby turned and headed for the house. Sam and Dean followed closely behind him.

They situated themselves in the living room where they could watch the front door. A minute later someone banged on it forcefully. "Damn it, Bobby. I know you're in there! Open the door!"

Bobby sighed. His eyes quickly traced the room for any weapons he may have forgotten to hide, and then he turned back to Dean, the door shaking on its hinges beneath John's fist. "You can still leave, son. We can distract him."

"No, Bobby. I need to do this."

Bobby took his time walking to the door. He placed a hand on the door knob and felt the vibrations shaking through it. He clicked back the locks and opened the door a crack. "Hey, John."

John's eyes were bloodshot, and he smelled faintly of alcohol, but when he locked eyes with Bobby, he looked nothing but focused. "Why'd you take my boy, Bobby?"

"I've known your kids since they were born, John. They will always have a place here."

"Sam belongs with _me_, Singer!"

Bobby's eyes narrowed. "You don't want to fight this with me, Winchester."

"You get out of my way or I'll _make_ you."

He stepped close and stared Bobby down. Bobby drew back slightly. He glanced over his shoulder; Dean casually leaned against a desk, and Sam stood tensed beside him. They nodded.

Bobby stepped back, and let John enter.

John did not rush in like he'd been expecting. He entered slowly, cautiously, taking in his surroundings. He quickly zeroed in on Sam and Dean.

He stopped in the middle of the room, his eyes focused on his younger son. "It's time to go, Sam."

Sam's eyes flickered to Dean. "No. I want to stay here."

John strode forward and grabbed his arm tightly; Sam winced. "I don't _care_ what you want."

Dean grabbed John's wrist, breaking his hold. "Don't touch him like that, dad."

John wrenched his hand out of Dean's hold, and backhanded his son. Dean fell back against the desk.

"You don't get to tell me how I touch him. Sam! Outside. Now."

Dean moved to block Sam's exit. His arms spreading out, shielding him. "Sam's not going anywhere."

John tugged Dean forward by the front of his shirt and growled. "I'm not letting him get corrupted by your _filth_."

Dean drew back his fist and hit his father as hard as he could. John hit the ground hard. Dean smirked.

John leapt up, and soon he and Dean were grappling across the room. For each hit there was a counter. For each lunge there was a parry. Sam edged over to stand with Bobby, watching the fight in a stunned silence. John had size and experience on his side, but Dean had flexibility and cunning on his.

It wasnt long before John began to get tired of this.

They broke apart, panting. John glanced quickly around the room, and saw that Sam was now standing behind him. He got an idea. With a smirk he straightened and turned his fists on his youngest son.

"Sam!"

Dean was behind him in an instant. John used his distraction, and caught Dean hard above the eye. Dean fell to the floor, and he did not get back up.

John drew a pistol.

Bobby quickly grabbed his arm. "Think about this, John! You don't want to do this!"

John yanked his arm back. "Yes I do. This sick faggot is _not_ my son. Look at Sam, look at him! He is perfect! I won't have this… this poison _ruining_ him. I won't lose both of my sons to this perversion, I _won't_." His gaze fell on Sam. "I want you to watch this. Watch and learn."

With his eyes locked on Sam, he pulled the trigger. And again. Until he was out.

Smirking, he turned to view Dean's body, but instead of a bloody carcass he saw something tan.

"What?"

There was a man standing in front of Dean, twelve perfect holes tinted red in his white shirt, his trench coat billowing behind him blocking Dean from view. His blue eyes eyed John sharply.

"Who the hell are you?"

The man reached out. John reeled back, but the man's fingers still found his forehead, and then all he saw was black as the floor flew up to meet him.

* * *

You should review. That little voice in the back of your head says you should, and I agree.


	3. Chapter 3

The man watched the body, oddly detached.

Dean was still sprawled out on the floor. His heart was convinced he should be dead, and raced in his chest. He swallowed. "Who are you?"

"Yeah," Bobby growled. "How the hell did you get in anyway? This house is demon proof!"

The man's head tilted to one side. "I am not a demon."

Dean winced as he sat up. "Then what are you?"

The man turned to face him, and immediately dropped to his knees, grabbing Dean tightly. Dean tried to scramble back, but the man's grip was like iron. Then warmth flooded his body, and the man let him go.

Suddenly free, Dean fell back.

Bobby and Sam stared at him with wide eyes. Bobby was the first to speak. "Are you feeling alright, boy?"

Dean was confused. He touched his face, his chest, his arms. He was completely healed. "I… I feel fantastic." His eyes locked with the blue eyed man. "What _are_ you?"

"I am an angel of the lord."

"Yeah. Right. Of course you are." Behind the man, Dean watched Bobby edge towards a desk. His eyes cut back to the man's. "So what? You've got feathers and a halo?"

The man's eyes narrowed and his face moved closer as though he was trying to peer into Dean's skull. Dean leaned back. "Jesus dude, personal space."

The man's head tilted again. "My brother is not here."

He pulled back and looked behind him as Bobby plunged a silver dagger into his heart. The man eyed it oddly as Dean scrambled to his feet and moved to stand with Sam.

The man stood, and pulled the silver dagger out of his chest and dropped it to the floor. Dean's face twisted in confusion. "Why didn't that kill him?"

Sam quickly grabbed a bottle from the kitchen and tossed it to his brother. "Let's try holy water."

Dean swiftly screwed off the cap and threw the water in the man's face. He frowned as it dripped from the man's hair and soaked into his white shirt.

Sam threw a handful of salt. It stuck. The man licked his lips oddly and his eyes narrowed. "I do not understand."

Sam turned to Bobby. "Why isn't anything working? Angel's don't exists… right?"

For a moment the three hunter's watched the strange man. Slowly, Bobby got an idea. He picked up a small knife and eyed it carefully, weighing it in his hand. He threw it at Dean.

There was a rustle of wings and the angel was standing in front of the hunter, deflecting the knife. Anger now covered his face, and he began to advance on Bobby, almost seeming to grow as his shadow cast out widely behind him. Dean jumped forward, pinning the man's arms to his sides, and pulling him back. The shadows vanished, and the air of menace left.

As they looked at each other something rose in Dean's chest, and he had to mentally shake himself, and remind himself _why_ he was holding this… thing.

He cleared his throat, and let the man go. "Don't hurt Bobby, _ever_. That goes for Sam too. Understood?"

The man looked at him in confusion. "But he tried to hurt you."

"Ever."

"Alright, Dean."

Bobby moved around the man carefully and placed a hand on Dean's shoulders. He noticed the man's eyes narrow. "I think he's telling the truth, son. It looks like you have a guardian."

"A what?"

Sam moved over and nudged him softly. "You know, a guardian angel? Someone to watch over you?"

Dean laughed. "That's ridiculous."

The man's head tilted to the side again. Dean felt himself twitch. He wanted to reach out and move it back.

Bobby was looking at the man oddly as well. Dean felt a weird surge of jealously. He closed his eyes, and made a conscious effort to _ignore_ _that_. "So. You're some kind of guardian, then?"

The man's eyes bore into his. He didn't seem to notice they weren't alone.

Dean cleared his throat. "Do you have a name?"

"Castiel."

"Castiel, eh?" Bobby eyed the bookcase behind them and selected a large book and started searching its pages. Sam realized what Bobby was doing before Dean, and walked over to his laptop to search the internet.

Dean was left to deal with the… angel. "So why are you here?"

"To protect you."

"Why? I mean I'm no saint. Hell, I don't even believe in God!" He leaned close conspiratorially. "And," he made a show of looking around, "I'm _gay_."

Castiel's eyes were wide and innocent. "What does that mean?"

"Uh. That means that I like men?"

"Why would God care if you liked men or not?"

Dean was mystified. For a moment they just stared at each other. "Doesn't the bible say that it's an abomination?"

Castiel smiled. Dean's breath caught. "The bible was written by man. There are many errors."

"Uh. Good to know." Dean needed to escape this weird conversation with this strange man. His eyes fell on his father's body still sprawled on the floor. "What are we going to do with him?"

The angel turned to face the body as though he'd forgotten it was there. He strode over and lifted him as if he weighed nothing and turned back to Dean. "Where would you like me to take him?"

Sam appeared at Dean's side. "Take him home." He rattled off the address. When the angel vanished he dragged Dean into the living room. "We found out who your angel is."

Bobby handed Dean an old black book with odd letters on the cover. He pointed about halfway down the page. "Castiel is the angel of Thursday."

Dean laughed. "There's an angel for Thursday?"

Sam nodded. "There are angels for a lot of things."

"Does that book say how we can get rid of him?"

Sam and Bobby paused. "Why would you want to get rid of him?"

"Because I don't want some fluffy ass weirdo following me around!"

Sam made one of his bitch faces. "Dean, having someone to keep you safe isn't always going to be a bad thing! He can protect you!"

"I don't need to be protected!"

There was a fluttering of wings, and the angel appeared standing just inside Dean's personal bubble. Dean growled. "Step back!"

Castiel tilted his head, but took an obedient step back.

Dean immediately felt bad, and ducked his head. "I'm sorry, Cas."

The angel frowned. "My name is not 'Cas.' It is Castiel."

"It's called a nickname."

Castiel continued to look at him in confusion.

Dean sighed. "I've had enough of this. I'm going to bed." He started for the stairs, with Castiel right on his heels. Dean stopped and slowly turned. "No, you stay here." He continued to climb the stairs. Castiel followed. Dean spun around. "No! Stay!"

Sam frowned up the stairs at him. "He's not a _dog_, Dean."

"Damn it Sam, I –" Dean stopped, and took a deep breathe. "Fine." He stomped up the remaining stairs and burst angrily into his room. He slammed the door in Castiel's face. He smirked, and turned, walking right into the angel.

Dean took a careful step around him, and angrily undressed. He casually looked over his shoulder and found Castiel watching him intently. He felt a tad self-conscious under such scrutiny, and opted to throw on a pair of soft pants.

He cleared his throat. "So… how is this going to work?"

"I do not understand."

"Sleep? Ever heard of it?"

"I do not require sleep."

"So you're just going to watch me?"

"Yes."

"Okay, awkward."

The angel tilted his head.

Dean groaned. He threw back the sheets on his bed roughly, and climbed in, moving around aggressively until he was comfortable.

He heard a soft swish and the bed dipped. Dean looked over his shoulder and saw the angel was now sitting at the foot of his bed, watching him. His face had softened, and his blue eyes almost glowed in the night.

Dean turned back to face the wall. He was used to insomnia, and when an uncomfortable warmth settled in him he knew it would be a while before sleep would claim him. He sighed and readjusted. "So, what's it like?"

"What is what like, Dean?"

"In heaven. Being an angel. Anything."

"For humans, heaven appears as all of your favorite memories; all of the times in your life where you felt at peace…"

Dean started to feel heavy, and darkness covered him like a blanket. Castiel's soft voice lulled him into a deep sleep, and despite himself he felt more at peace than he had in a long time.

Almost as though they knew the angel was watching over him, the nightmares stayed away, and he did not wake up until the following morning.


	4. Chapter 4

When Dean woke up, he felt more refreshed than he'd been since… well, ever. He sat up, and met blue eyes. The angel looked at him curiously, as though he'd never seen someone wake up before.

"What are you looking at?"

The angel tilted his head; he looked confused.

Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Never mind."

He stood up and stretched. Castiel's eyes followed him. He dressed. The angel watched. He moved to the bathroom. The angel was right behind him. Dean turned. "Look, I'm taking a shower." Castiel's look did not change. "That means you can wait out here." He took a step. The angel moved to follow him. He stopped. "That means you can _wait here_."

He closed the door securely and turned around to check that he hadn't been followed. He sighed and leaned back against the door. God damn angels. Begrudgingly he brushed his teeth and splashed water on his face. And then a thought struck him. Dean pulled the door open. "Can you see through walls?"

"Yes."

"Are you watching me?"

"Yes."

"But…I'm… just turn around, okay?"

Castiel obediently turned his back to the door.

Dean noticed a strange shadow on his back near his shoulders. He reached out a hand, and felt something solid and strangely soft. Under his hand, Castiel jerked. Dean gripped his arm tightly to hold him still as he traced out shapes in the air. "Dean – "

"Hush, Cas."

The angel glared at him. "Dean."

Dean suddenly seemed to realize what he was doing, and sheepishly let go. "Were those your wings?"

"Go take your shower, Dean."

When Dean emerged, the angel was gone. Dean he knew he would be. Only he could be given a guardian and still manage to scare it away in less than a day.

As he moved down the stairs, he smelled something delicious from the kitchen. He knew from personal experience that Bobby just could _not_ cook, that left only one person. With a heavy heart, he entered the kitchen. "Damn, Sammy you'll never guess what I just –"

Sam was standing beside the stove with a pan of eggs, and sitting at the table was his angel. "Cas…"

"Hello, Dean."

"What are you… What are you still doing here?"

"Where else would I be?"

Dean closed his mouth with a snap and walked over to the stove. Sam gave him a generous portion of eggs. Dean wolfed it down and headed outside.

He entered the garage and grabbed a box full of tools, then headed out to the Impala.

The angel was leaning against a door.

Dean ignored him, and popped the hood, going to work on making his baby purr. As the sun climbed high into the sky Dean pulled back, wiping sweat from his brow. He was panting and almost considered going in to grab a beer.

The angel was in front of him.

Dean glanced down at his lips. They were very tempting. Hell, everything about the angel was tempting. His short black hair begged Dean to run his hands through it, his blue eyes were far too wide and innocent, and he was so small; Dean knew their bodies would fit together perfectly. He cleared his throat. "What?"

The angel handed him a cold bottle, beads of perspiration dripping down the sides. Dean felt a smile tug at his mouth as he accepted the drink. "So you just carry around water?" He smirked. "Got anything stronger?"

The angel's head tilted to the side. Dean sighed dramatically and put an arm around Castiel's shoulders, escorting him inside the house. "Water is all well and good, but we humans tend to prefer things of an alcoholic nature." He opened the fridge and pulled out two beers, handing one two Castiel.

He popped the cap off of his, and drank deeply. Cas mimicked his hand movement, and sniffed the beer dubiously. Dean laughed. "Drink it."

The angel cautiously tipped the bottle, and drank the contents in one go. He licked his lips, his eyes studying Dean. Dean laughed into his bottle, drinking decidedly more slowly. A comfortable silence settled over them. Dean paused and took a deep breathe. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier with your wings."

The angel tilted his head. "I admit I am… surprised you were able to touch them."

"What?"

"They exist on a different plane. They should be completely intangible to humans."

Dean's breathe hitched. He remembered how soft they'd been and he wanted to touch them again. His hand twitched towards Castiel, but he resisted the urge. "Come on, lets go back out."

When the evening was starting to wear on, they went back inside. Bobby was cooking dinner, and they joined Sam at the table, falling into easy conversation. After a while silence fell. Dean got up and went to the living room, pouring two glasses of scotch. When he got back to the table he handed one to his angel. Dean sipped at his drink, and Castiel followed suit.

Sam stared at them.

Dean froze. "What?"

"Seriously?"

"What?"

Sam took the glass from Castiel's hands and tasted it. "Dude, are you corrupting an angel?"

"Corrupt is such a _strong_ word."

"Dean, you're making him drink alcohol!"

"Making? I wasn't forcing his hand."

Sam glared. "Dean."

Dean held up his hands placatingly. "Fine. You know what? Let's send him back. I'm sure he's still good as new. Besides," He shrugged, "I want to get back to hunting as soon as possible."

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean, while Sam's widened in surprise. "Hunting?"

"Yeah, Sammy." Dean tried to smile. "It's what I do."

Sam stared at Dean imploringly. Dean sighed. "Look Sam, I need to get out of here. I'm not used to sitting around, you know? I need to get back on the road."

Sam was about to say something when Bobby cleared his throat. "Get up you lazy idjits and help out. Otherwise I'll eat this all myself."

Dean laughed and got up, grabbing plates out of a cabinet. Sam followed after a moment, still frowning in thought. Castiel moved up behind the elder Winchester and spoke into his ear. "I am not so easy to get rid of. You will not scare me away, and you cannot order me to leave. I am here to protect you, and I will." And then he was on the other side of the room, helping Bobby serve the food.

Dean couldn't help but watch him. Then Sam elbowed him. "Ow! Bitch!"

Sam glared. "I want to come."

Dean stared him down. "You need to focus on school."

"It's two months away!"

"Damn it, Sam, there's going to be at least _one_ educated Winchester!"

"It's not like I'm going to forget everything in two months."

"You could still _die_."

"So could you!"

"You're not coming Sam, and that's final."

Castiel and Bobby walked between them and set down the plates. They all sat down. Bobby looked at the glares the boys were exchanging, "If you wanna go back hunting the same rules apply."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I know, I know, call every day, come home every now and again."

"No." Sam glowered. "You come home every week."

"What? No!"

Sam moved to stand, but Bobby grabbed his arm, and pushed him back into his seat. "I think he's got a point. Every week, son."

Dean scowled at his plate, and stabbed at his food. "Fine. But I'm leaving tomorrow."


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel sat on Dean's bed, watching the hunter pace back and forth, occasionally grabbing something and tossing it in a bag. It wasn't long before his bag was completely packed.

For a moment he paused, his eyes on Castiel, and then he was moving again, unloading his guns and taking them all apart to be cleaned.

As the night wore on, the moon rose high in the sky filling the room with a bright light. Castiel's head tilted. "You should rest."

Dean shook his head, putting a gun back together. "No. Too much to do."

Castiel placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Sleep. I will take care of this."

Dean knocked the angel's hand away. "No! I don't need your help."

Castiel glared. "You need your rest to be able to function in the morning. It is biologically necessary."

Dean turned to face Castiel, snarling. "I am perfectly capable of doing this alone."

Castiel was done listening. He reached his hand forward and pressed two fingers firmly to Dean's forehead. The hunter fell into the angel's arms. With a gesture the guns were cleaned and reassembled. He carefully undressed Dean and tucked him into bed. He ran a hand through the hunter's hair, his trailing fingers ensuring his charge would have no nightmares. Then he sat back and watched.

When the sun rose, Dean blinked awake, and slowly sat up. His head felt fuzzy. Gradually the previous night came back to him. He looked up sharply. "You bastard!"

Castiel looked at him in confusion. "As I was not born, I was incapable of being conceived before my 'parents' were married, therefore I cannot be a bastard."

Dean scowled. "You know what I mean. If you're going to be following me around like some lost puppy, no more angel-mojo crap, understood?"

Castiel scowled back. "If you intend to be stubborn, then I will take action."

"No, that's cheating!"

They glared at each other for a few minutes before Dean's bladder forced him to get up and go to the bathroom. When he was finished he went downstairs without a backwards glance, fully intending to ignore Castiel for as long as he felt like.

Sam and Bobby were already up and waiting. Sam tried to talk Dean out of leaving again, but when it became clear that wasn't going to work, he settled on establishing the deal. "You're going to call me every night and tell me everything!"

"Of course, Sammy. Just like before."

Sam was rather upset there wasn't a bigger fight over it.

Dean went upstairs and grabbed his bag, and then came back down to hug Bobby and Sam goodbye.

He walked out to the Impala and loaded his things. He was fairly certain she'd run for him. He got in and slammed the door. Another man appeared in the car. Dean jumped. "Jesus, Cas! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"I am sorry, Dean. Are you done ignoring me?"

Dean grumbled and put the key in the ignition. The car roared to life. He carefully maneuvered her out of the lot, and took off down the road. Castiel watched him intently. Dean frowned, and put on some music to fill the silence.

His heart began to lighten the further down the road he got. Traveling was in his blood, and he felt tense staying in one place for too long. He rolled the window down and let the wind come in and tousle his hair as he sang along loudly with his stereo. Casually he glanced over and saw a faint smile on his angel's face. Dean grinned.

They drove all day. As the sun started to go down Dean pulled into a small town. He found a cheap motel. He knew Cas didn't need a bed so he only got one. The motel manager eyed him oddly as he handed over the key, but didn't say anything.

Dean grabbed a paper and went back out to the Impala. "Alright Cas, lets go." Dean grabbed the bags and headed off towards the room.

Castiel stood in the doorway as Dean dumped his stuff and jumped onto the bed, flicking the paper open. Occasionally Dean's eye jumped to the door, watching the angel watch him. It was extremely awkward.

Dean reached out a hand and found the TV remote; he clicked on the set. Some infomercial was running about natural male enhancement. With a strangled cry Dean changed the channel. Smiling Bob was eyeing his wife and the neighborhoods women like a serial rapist. He changed the channel. A woman professed her love to the most gorgeous man Dean had ever seen. Well… he eyed Castiel, second most. He changed the channel. Dr. Sexy was busy telling a busty nurse how to do her job. Dean sighed happily; he'd always loved this show. Job complete, he turned back to his paper.

The show was half over; Dr. Sexy thought he'd solved the case, but there was still fifteen minutes left which meant he was wrong. With a sarcastic grin Dean turned to Castiel. The angel was watching him intently. Dean's grin faltered, but he recovered quickly. "Think I found a case. I'm going to head off tomorrow. You'll be good here, right?"

Castiel's head tilted. "I will be with you."

Dean's nostril's flared. "No. I work alone."

Castiel's eyes hardened. His shadow spread behind him. "You should show me some respect, Dean Winchester."

Dean glared at Castiel, but his eyes kept being drawn to the shadows. He stepped forward, and reached out a hand to touch them. Castiel's eyes narrowed, and he took a step back.

Dean kept advancing. The closer Dean got the more the shadows drew in until it was clear they were holding tightly to Castiel's back.

Dean grabbed Castiel's tie to hold him in place and reached out a hand. He felt soft feathers along a solid bone. Castiel watched him with wide eyes. "How are you doing that?"

"Carefully."

Dean stepped closer, burying his hands in feathers. Castiel's breath caught. They were so close, _so close_. All Dean had to do was lean forward…

His phone rang shrilly.

The moment broke.

Dean casually walked over and fished his cell out of his pants. "Hey Bobby, I was just about to call you." He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm fine. No, I found a case. Yes. Yes." Dean grinned and grabbed the paper, and started describing an article. The conversation ended with Dean deciding he'd be hunting a ghost, and bidding Bobby a good evening.

He hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed. He grabbed a jacket and looked at Castiel. The angel hadn't moved from the wall. Dean grinned. "Wanna go get dinner?"

The angel's head fell to the side, and Dean just _knew_ he was going to say 'angel's don't need to eat.' Instead Castiel's eyes narrowed and he nodded. He vanished, and immediately reappeared right next to him. Dean suppressed the urge to flinch, and instead led the way outside.

Dean picked a diner near the motel. It was lit by bright blue and white fluorescent lights, and the interior had comfortable seats padded with red leather. The diner was half full; a few families sat around small tables, and men in trucker hats sat at the bar, buried in their plates. Dean quietly moved them to the back.

A young waitress wearing a light blue that accented her cleavage appeared by their table. She smiled widely at Dean. "Can I start you with something to drink?"

Dean's smile was bright and flirtatious. "Two beers please, darling."

The waitress made a note on her pad, smiled at him and Castiel, and then practically skipped away.

Dean watched her go, and then smiled at Cas. "Like what you see?"

The angel looked at him incomprehensively.

Dean sighed. "Come on, Cas. First rule of riding with a Winchester is that you need to get _laid_ every now and then. You never know when you're going to die; you've got to go out with no regrets."

Castiel leaned forward slowly. "Why would I regret not getting…laid?"

A voice cleared itself. They looked up. The young waitress was blushing as she placed their drinks on the table. She shot Castiel a furtive glance. "Do you two know what you'd like to order?"

Dean handed her his menu. "I'd like a bacon cheeseburger."

She nodded, and turned to Cas with a small smile. "And you?"

Castiel frowned. "I do not require sustenance."

The waitresses smile faltered; she nodded, and headed back.

Dean shook his head sadly. "Dude, no. I think you just lost a good opportunity."

Castiel's bright eyes watched him. "I have not missed any opportunities."

Dean rolled his eyes. "So you're just going to hang around me all the time?" He laughed into his glass. "That is just pathetic."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "Why is it pathetic?"

"Think of all the places you could be going! All of the people you could see! Instead you're just hanging around with my old ass. I mean come on, you're an angel. Shouldn't you want to hang around priests, or devout people, or whatever?" The angel still looked at him quizzically. "Come on, hanging around a sinner all day? That's not really angelic."

Castiel leaned in close, his eyes searching upward, his lips parted ever so slightly… Dean was completely distracted.

Castiel was speaking.

Dean shook his head. "What was that?"

"You have a beautiful soul."

Dean was at a loss for words. He stared at Cas unblinkingly as the waitress set down a plate of food.

Dean ate his food quickly; he was used to sitting at a table alone. He glanced up at the angel and almost against his will he smiled. He tried to hide it in his burger, but he failed. Castiel smiled back.

When they returned to the motel Dean killed time flicking through the old television and laying out the tools he would need for the next day.

Around midnight he lay down to go to sleep.

As usual Cas took up his spot on the end of the bed, content to watch him. Dean was surprised to find that he'd already grown used to the angel's vigil, and that he felt comforted by it. Sleep found him quickly.

The next day they headed out to hunt.

Dean was pissed Castiel got in the car, but there was literally nothing he could do to make him leave. He made a quiet note to read up on how to kill angels. He didn't want to kill his new guardian necessarily, but it might do good to have some leverage.

They pulled up outside an old school. The place certainly _looked_ haunted, but then, Dean never was much for school. He stashed the car in a small grove of trees, and they casually meandered over.

A few people were walking in sight. Dean wasn't sure if they'd seen them, but just to be safe he headed to the schools playground. He sank into a wooden bench, and Castiel sat beside him.

They watched two women walking their dog around the perimeter of the fence. The brunette looked at them and smiled. She whispered to the blonde. Both looked at them and giggled, before hurrying away.

Dean scowled. He glared at Castiel. The angel was smiling at the play set. He turned to see what the angel was looking at. There was nothing. "What are you looking at?"

Castiel sighed happily. "So many people have been happy here. Small children playing, just enjoying existence. It is bliss."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Right. Kids getting picked on, falling down and scraping their knees; crying. This is _such_ a great place."

Castiel frowned. "Why do you find the negative in everything?"

"Because that's the way life _is_ Cas! Life is not all sun and roses! Life _sucks_."

Castiel looked like a kicked puppy. His eyes were full of sympathy. "Life is a beautiful thing."

Dean's eyes softened. His fingers touched Castiel's face lightly. "Not in my experience."

Castiel smiled making him seem years younger. His hands cupped Dean's face, drawing him closer. "The world shines, Dean. It shines with joy and beauty and innocence."

Dean brushed Castiel's hair behind an ear and cupped his neck. "_You_ shine. _You_ radiate with… innocence. This world is dark; it is filled with death and hatred. People are killed, families are shattered, and people have their… their _innocence_ stolen _every day_."

"Dean –"

"No, Cas. You have to trust me. This world will eat you alive." Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw the two women look at them with bright smiles before turning on to a different street. Dean groaned, touching his forehead to Castiel's.

They rested for a moment before Dean opened his eyes and found Castiel's eyes boring into his. Dean sighed. "Let's go toast this ghost."

* * *

You should review! Really!


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for the wait, I just moved and we didn't have the internet for a while there.

* * *

Dean glanced around quickly. He didn't see anyone. From personal experience he knew this didn't necessarily mean no one was watching.

He tugged on Castiel's sleeve and stood up, causally walking to the side of the school and towards a small side door. He stopped and pulled Castiel close. "I want you to stand very still, alright? Try to let your trench cover me up as much as possible."

Castiel's head tilted slightly, but he stood still and let the wind blow his coat out. Dean grinned and pulled a small kit from his pocket, quickly going to work on the lock. It was rusty, and hadn't been used in a while, but under Dean's fingers it opened obediently. The small door swung open silently.

Dean stood back grinning. He tugged Castiel forward by the lapels of his coat and watched the visible road for movement. The _last_ thing he needed was for a police detail to show up. "Alright, Cas. Moving fast attracts the most attention, so we're going to move through this door like we _belong_ here, 'kay? Step with me." Dean took a few careful steps back, and closed the door firmly. "See? That wasn't hard."

They had entered an old gym. It had to be old, it looked terrible. From what he remembered of his time spent in these hell holes, gyms were big with bright polished floors. The schools mascot was usually painted somewhere, and bleachers from all angles were posed to catch the action.

This gym was small. The floor was wooden, but it had seen better days. There were folded up basketball hoops on every wall, and in one corner there was a stack of blue mats.

Dean nodded, and identified a door that lead out into a long hallway. "So we're looking for a restless spirit. Ever dealt with one?"

Castiel's eyes traced the lockers curiously. "No. I have battled with demons and fallen angels, but sprits were usually taken care of by a lesser body of angels."

Dean laughed. "Is that your way of telling me you're over qualified?"

Castiel stopped, glaring at Dean. "It was my job to die in the name of my father, not help his chosen find eternal bliss." He moved off down the hallway again, walking close enough to the wall to run his fingers over the ridges of doors and hinges; he looked at the dust in his hands intently.

Dean watched him go for a moment, and then moved to catch up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to –"

"Do not worry yourself."

Dean sighed and looked away, dropping the subject. "So if my research is right, we're looking for a girl named Crystal. Some girls from her class held her under the water in the pool until she drowned."

They paused at an intersection of hallways and looked for movement in the dark hallways. Dean caught a sent coming down the corridor to the left. He touched Castiel's elbow. "Do you smell that?"

The angel paused, and nodded at Dean. The hunter smirked and walked off quickly. It was hard to mistake the smell of a pool.

The smell led them down to two sets of doors; both were padlocked, but that rarely stopped the hunter. He knelt and easily picked the lock. With a grin he unwound the thick chains binding the doors.

He stepped back, and with a massive sweep of his arm he ushered Castiel in first.

The room was very large and very dark. Dean pulled out a flashlight and took a quick stock of their surroundings, making sure there was nothing waiting for them out there in the gloom. Satisfied he started to walk forward, light flashing over everything he passed.

Castiel eyed the deep pit in the center of the room. Dean caught his eye. "What?"

Castiel's head fell to the side. "What is that?"

Dean turned to look. "Well Cas, that'd be the pool."

"I was under the impression those tended to have water in them."

Dean shrugged. "They usually empty it when the school is closed." He laughed. "It'd probably get really gross if they didn't." He started to walk again, his footsteps echoing distantly.

He found what he was looking for behind a small wooden tower. "Hey, Cas. Over here." He grinned. "Locker rooms."

The locker room had no windows, and it was pitch black inside. Dean's hand felt the wall beside him and thankfully found the light easily.

The room was large, with the first portion dominated by rows of tall metal boxes, and a short hallway leading back to the showers. The woman's locker room was practically identical to the men's; Dean was a little disappointed. He shrugged it off and quickly set to work searching the room for something, anything, that would belong to the ghost.

As he walked past a group of sinks set into the wall, he felt a chill run down his spine. He glanced up and saw the ghost in the mirror. Dean turned quickly, she was right behind him.

With a gesture he went flying back into the mirror, shattering the glass.

There was a snarl and Castiel was in front of him, his wings fully unfurled. He had the ghost's full attention now; she leapt at him, blasting him back into the wall. Castiel caught himself midway, neatly turning and leaping back at her. Her image jerked and she disappeared.

Dean hesitantly regained his footing, broken glass falling off his jacket. "Well. I think she likes you."

Castiel looked at him in confusion.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "Nevermind. How'd she get the upper hand on you anyway, Mr. Angel-of-the-Lord?"

Castiel looked at him as though it were obvious. "I did not wish to destroy her spirit."

Dean nodded vaguely; that made sense.

He set off purposely through the room again, winding through the lockers, checking to see if any of them might contain the mystery item. No such luck.

As he finished with the last one she appeared again. Dean shot her in the head, her form vanishing instantly.

He glanced over his shoulder for Cas. "Find anything?"

The angel was looking at the walls curiously. Something caught his eye, and he strode forward. Dean hurried to catch up. "Cas?"

Castiel had stopped in the shower room. The room was large and bare with numerous head joints sticking out of the walls. Dean shook his head. "I'm lovin' the privacy. Do you know how many guys would love to be standing here?"

Castiel's brow furrowed. "In an empty room?"

Dean scoffed. "Well. It's not _always_ empty."

Castiel moved forward and knelt before the far wall, his hand touching a small silver square. He looked at Dean. "It is here."

All of the showers turned on, spraying the hunter with scalding water and drenching the angel instantly.

With a shout Dean stumbled back. The room was instantly filled with a silvery mist, and then she appeared, crowding Castiel's space and forcing him back, cracking his head against a wall.

Dean shot her in the back and after a moments hesitation rushed through the hot water to the back of the room. He reached out a hand and felt Castiel's head; his hand came back bloody. "You alright, Cas?"

Castiel nodded, even as the blood proceeded to run down his jacket and down his leg, staining the floor with crimson swirls. Dean stared at the drain in horrified fascination. Castiel touched his arm, bringing him back. "I am fine, Dean."

Dean nodded jerkily, reminding himself the angel healed quickly, and knelt by the silver square. She appeared again, and grabbed him by the front of the shirt, hurling him backwards.

He slid in the water a few feet and quickly scrambled back up. Castiel had already regained the girl's attention, and was trying to fend her off as gently as possible as she beat on his chest and slashed at his face. Castiel seemed completely unfazed as his shirt began to turn a dark shade of red.

Dean quickly decided to put it out of his mind and hurriedly pulled at the silver square. It didn't budge. He looked closely and saw four tiny circular screws.

Shit.

He fumbled for a knife and tried to use it to twist the small screws out. It didn't work. The surface was too slick and the knife kept slipping off.

Dean glanced over to see how Castiel was fairing. All he could see was a deep gash running from the angel's ear to just under his eye; as he watched it quickly mended itself, leaving nothing behind but a faint tint of red quickly being washed away by the cascading waters. The ghost slashed again, and the cut reappeared. Dean's stomach clenched. He'd had _enough_ of this shit.

He drew his shotgun and hit the square as hard as he could. A huge dent appeared. Dean grinned and proceeded to take out all of his anger on the square until it was bent enough for him to pry the door off.

Inside a small white towel sat innocently; it had long since turned brown and crusty with blood and mold, and who knew what else.

Dean fished inside his pocket and brought out a small container of gasoline drenching the damn thing. He flicked out his lighter and struck it. Nothing; the small wheel spun uselessly in his hand.

Fuck. It was all this damned water, it wasn't letting him get a spark. With a snarl he turned and shouted. "Cas!"

Castiel caught his eye, and quickly grabbed the girl, hurling her violently into the wall. The tile cracked under the force, and her body disappeared in an explosion of dust. Castiel was instantly beside him. "Yes, Dean?"

"Can you light this?"

Castiel reached out a hand and touched the towel. The ghost appeared behind him and threw Dean back as the fabric ignited. Her body turned a dark black with red cracks as she was incinerated.

Dean lay back, panting on the floor. The water was cold now, and swirled softly around him on its way to the drain. With a groan he opened his eyes. Castiel offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. Dean grinned. "Well. That was fun. Let's get out of here."

Castiel nodded, drops of water running down his face and catching in his hair. It was beautiful. Dean couldn't help himself. He had to lean forward and kiss those tempting lips.

His tongue swept the angel's mouth, tasting his essence. Water slicked their lips and dropped from their noses.

With a breathy laugh Dean quickly moved to lick the drops of water off of Castiel's lips and cheek. A hand moved up and ran through the angel's hair.

He froze.

He pulled Castiel closer, tucking the smaller man's head under his chin so he could get a better look at the back of his head. His fingers carded quickly through his hair, freeing the matt of blood for the water to capture, and searching for the wound. He didn't find one.

He pulled back and caught Castiel's eyes. "Does it hurt?"

Castiel looked at him in confusion.

Dean suddenly felt bashful, and considered dropping the whole thing, but the complete adoration he saw reflected in those eyes pushed him to continue. "I know you heal quickly, but do those wounds hurt?"

Castiel blinked. "Why is it important?"

"Just answer me."

"Yes."

Guilt flooded Dean's soul. "So… so when we… _stabbed_ you through the heart…?"

Castiel smiled sweetly. "You were merely defending your family."

Dean quickly grabbed Castiel by the back of the neck and drew him in, kissing his forehead and hugging him tightly. "All the same, I'm sorry."

Castiel pulled away, his eyes bright. Dean could practically see him radiating with joy and happiness. It was like a pure, snowy light.

Dean smiled awkwardly and cleared his throat. "Right. So, uh, let's go."

They made it back to their motel room without any incident. Dean was worried about the wet footprints they were leaving behind, but he figured they'd evaporate before anyone found them.

As soon as they were in the door Dean gratefully stripped out of his wet clothing and pulled on a dry pair of boxers. He glanced at the bathroom and considered jumping in the shower. Then Dean looked back at the door and saw Castiel standing just inside watching him, a small puddle forming under him. "You stay in those wet clothes and you're going to get one hell of a cold."

Castiel looked down at himself and then back at Dean. "They will dry."

Dean laughed and hurried into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and made his way back out. "True, but its going to be uncomfortable for a while."

Dean tossed the towel across his shoulders, and then his hands were up, gripping Castiel's lapels and shoving the wet coat off and to the floor. The suit jacket soon followed, then the white button down. Dean hesitated for a moment before unbuttoning the angel's slacks and letting them slide to the floor as well. He hesitated again. His hand hovering uncertainly over Castiel's boxers.

He bit his lip and instead took the towel and tossed over the angel's head and began rubbing furiously. He paused dramatically and peaked under the towel. Castiel's eyes practically glowed in the gloom.

Dean quickly flipped the towel back down and continued rubbing, leaving no part of his head untouched until he heard a short laugh and Castiel started pushing at his arms. With a grin Dean let the towel drop down to Castiel's shoulders and used the ends to wipe gently at his face. Then Dean moved down his neck, and down his arms and chest. He pulled the angel closer and carefully ran the towel down his back until his hands encountered the elastic around his waist.

Dean slowly got to his knees unmindful of the puddle on the floor, and ran the towel down Castiel's legs. With a mischievous grin he pulled one leg up to get at the angel's foot.

He was expecting flailing or a scream, but Cas just watched him, a small smile playing on his lips.

Dean made sure to take his time, and spent as much time as possible drying his angel off, but soon he was done and had to stand once more.

Once again his hands brushed the wet fabric of Castiel's boxers.

He met the angel's eyes and knew he could totally get away with it. He smirked. "You still seem a little wet."

He tossed the towel across his shoulders and his hands filled themselves with fabric. He watched Castiel's eyes as he slowly removed the last article of clothing. The angel's expression never changed.

Dean swallowed as he appraised Castiel quickly, then he wrapped him up tightly in the towel. Castiel's head fell to the side as Dean took a step back. "I'm, uh. Going to go take a shower. There's some clothes in my duffle you could probably wear..." He quickly stepped over to his bag and pulled out a pair of torn jeans, a pair of black boxers, and his favorite Metallica shirt. He pushed the clothes into the angel's arms, turned and all but fled to the bathroom.

He pressed his back to the door and just breathed, imagining Castiel's body, his lean frame, wild hair sticking up in every direction, his complete and total trust… Dean gasped as his hand closed around his cock.

Oh yeah. He needed a little alone time.

He was well aware of the body in the room behind him, so he tried to keep it down, but occasionally a gasp would escape his lips as he imagined those blue eyes looking out at him from under the towel. His pace quickened, and he imagined licking drops of water off the angel's skin; he'd tasted like honey and like the wind. He opened his eyes, and his breath caught as he realized Castiel was very capable of watching him right now, and he felt the coil tighten within him as he came in his hand.

He panted as he came down.

His eyes caught his own in the mirror, drawing his gaze down to his hand. He stepped forward and washed it off in the sink, and then started the shower.

Castiel was sitting on his bed when he exited, looking scruffy and adorable in Dean's clothes. The hunter almost had to turn around and go back to the bathroom, but he squashed the urge and walked to his bag, grabbing his phone and calling Sam and Bobby, telling them the job was done.

When he'd finished he tossed the phone onto the bed. Castiel watched him quietly.

"There's another hunt in the next town over." Castiel nodded. "We'll head out in the morning, kay?"

"Of course, Dean."

Dean licked his lips and nodded. "Want dinner?"


End file.
